Wondering and Wishing
by Kitty O
Summary: Ficlet set during Season 7 episode Ride the Wind part 2. Joe stands before the cannon and the Indians and the Pony Express... and misses his older brother. One of my "Missing Adam" ficlets.


**This is set during season 7's Ride the Wind (part two), when Joe has been captured by Indians… again. I haven't written for Bonanza in a while, so I felt as though I was being remiss in some duty. **

_Where we are: Joe's now a Pony Express Rider, trying to get the mail through Indian land. But Winnemucca and his braves keep killing the riders. Finally, during a raid on a riders' station, Winnemucca's own son was captured. Joe was captured shortly after. Now the deal is: Joe's life for the Indian's, and then Winnemucca will talk peace. The problem? The man in charge of the Pony Express is too caught up in ambition to believe the deal, and is determined to kill the Indian anyway._

I squinted against the glaring sun, trying to watch everything at once, knowing Wade wasn't going to take the deal. I was standing beneath the Indians and before the Pony Express Station, determined and defiant. Right before me was Winnemucca's son, standing up on a wagon, a rope around his neck.

Our eyes met for a moment. The minute someone touched those horses, he would be dead, hung by the neck. I would be dead soon, too—I just wasn't sure how. It could be that the Indians would kill me because no one would take their deal. Or maybe Wade would set off that cannon, killing the Indians… and me, because I refused to run. I had promised Winnemucca I wouldn't. I had promised, so I wouldn't break it. If I tried, an Indian's arrow might kill me anyway. Winnemucca's son – Dancing Bear – nodded to me. He knew we were in the same boat. About to die. And both too prideful to show that on the inside we were shaking.

It wasn't like I hadn't been in this situation before, of course. I had, many times. The heart-stopping fear. Life hanging on a string. Waiting for someone else to announce your fate. It should have been old news.

Seems like that stuff never gets boring. I just had to pretend like it did, pretend like I wasn't scared on top of being sweaty and hot, on top of the fact that I had an awful itch on my leg, and I refused to scratch it. Pretend it was all old hat.

No one was better at pretending, I found myself thinking, than my brother Adam, who had left the West.

I wished Adam was here. Sure, he wouldn't want to see me die, but I wanted him to be here. He had been gone too long. He _should _be here, I thought to myself, finding it preferable to thinking about the cannon facing me. Hoss and Pa were on their way; I could see the dust from their horses in the distance… but not Adam. Adam wasn't coming. My big, granite headed brother wasn't coming back home anytime soon. But I wanted him to.

I wanted him to be standing there now, arguing with them all and perhaps having his hand on his gun. I wanted him to tell Winnemucca to be reasonable, to prove to Wade that this was a dumb idea. Being rational in a way that only Adam could.

I wondered what he would say when he heard that I died. He'd be sad, I was sure. But would he react? Would he sink to the ground, crying? Or would he be rational; would he stand there and absorb the shock, like the hard-headed Yankee he was? Would he come to the funeral, even though he was out of the country?

I wondered.

_If I survive this, I'm telling him all about it. I'm writing him a letter. I can't believe he's not at home when any of us could die any day. I can't believe that. _

Tears threatened to come to my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had to stop thinking about Adam. This was not big-brother time. This was look-tough time, and so I did just that.

I watched them aim the cannon, but I didn't twitch. I watched Wade fight to try and get Dancing Bear hung, and neither Bear nor I moved a muscle. I watched my father come and throw himself on Wade, and I watched the reporter take it all down, and I watched Hoss try to stop the horses, and my face stayed as blank as a mask.

I didn't have as much courage as Adam, truly, or the gift of indifference like Adam. But my face never changed as I watched this fight decide my life. I wondered if Adam would be proud of me when he got my letter... which I may or may not get a chance to write.


End file.
